Malfunction
by Noclaf
Summary: Harry has gone and done it again, another place, with another face, and all he wants is to survive. At least that's what he tells himself. AU sash WIP
1. Malfunction

Act one, chapter one, page one, part one, volume one, section one, the start the beginning, the alpha, your mama, the big bang, genesis, the birth, and so on and henceforth in to the near and distant future at which point you get the first bit, the first sentence, the first word, the first letter. Why are you reading this? This isn't what you came for! This should be at the bottom as it is the last thing that I did. But then it wouldn't be the first thing to annoy you....  
  
oOoOo  
There was blood of course, and gore and the stench of bowls sliced open and left to rot in the polluted air. But at the moment it was obsolete. The only things that mattered were the fumes of ozone, and light, and eyes of complementary colors. Christmas colors, red and green. Two figures stood on a hill above a battle, and all below paused in there trespass of the eighth commandment- thou shall not kill.  
  
The ones above the standard troops, and the heroes and villains were THE TWO. The ones who would change the course of the world. And as all stood below and watched, the smaller killed the larger- no not killed- utterly destroyed so that there was no hope of resurrection, no hope of even an afterlife. So utterly that his grave would be cures words and his tombstone history books and his funeral a celebration  
  
With his life and leadership gone, the troops resumed there slaughter. The friends of the smaller hero strong in the knowledge that they had won; the slaves of the larger screaming as both wand, and blade ,and the mark of there master took there lives.  
  
On the hill a boy staggered down searching for someone. He found his quarry at the bottom of the hill clutching his arm while the Dark Mark slowly drew his very soul out of his body.   
  
"Please," wisped the man, "please don't let him take me" and sobbing the boy complied drawing a deadly dagger over the man's throat. Then he took the dead thing in his arms and sobbed for what could never be.  
  
oOoOo  
Weeks latter one Harry Potter sat in history class scratching a dry quill across a blank page. It was pointless this class, the endless drone, the glorification of death made dull by death himself- or as close to death as any self respecting wizard would allow any way. "...and in 1237 the Alliance of Giants was broken by Melvock the Agressor, by his slaughter of Snig Falanbolder..."   
  
Across the aisle sat Hermione Granger, she twisted a gold ring on her finger and stared out the window. She would not look at the empty seat beside her. Once upon a time a boy had sat in that seat, Hermione and Harry would whisper conversations back and forth, they would hatch plots and create conspiracies. But that time was long gone. The boy Ron and the dark lord were gone, and with them any desire for mischief these two would hold.  
  
The bell rang, the ghost professor, still moaning about Snig Falanbolder and his family's retaliation on Melvock. The class moseyed out of the class in to the hall and down the stairs to the dungeons to the next learning experience, potions. But one Harry Potter paused an then turned, running for somewhere, anywhere, that was not the dungeons. The Girl Hermione watched him go tears fell slowly in understanding.  
  
oOoOo  
Harry potter stood on the window sill of the highest room of the tallest tower, and contemplated the ground. He knew rationally, that there were wards to stop him from doing any thing, if he really wanted to die from a height, he would have to take one of the brooms. But he did not want to die. He wanted to go back to the hospital wing, and stay in the white beds, and stare at the ceiling until forever. A nasty voice in his head told him that he was being a coward, that there were people who had lost so much more than him, that he was just a silly boy starved for the lime light. Harry snarled back at the voice in his mind, he didn't WANT the attention, he NEVER wanted it. He just wanted peace. Peace that would come in the   
  
form of the hospital wing or if he were really lucky, a private room at St. Mango's where only Hermione could see him. And only very rarely at that.  
  
So, an exhausted, depressed, and sad little boy jumped off the highest room in the tallest tower. Well stepped off really. Or maybe he fell, but that's not the point, the point is that he fell on to a network of malfunctioning wards, that had hadn't had a proper renewal since Dumbledore had taken over for Armando Dippet. The situation was further complicated by the number of magical items on Harry's person, things like his wand, the robes (spelled against were and tear) a chocolate frog.. And then there were some very screwed up offensive and defensive ward's left over from the war. All this compiles with the fact that Harry was really, incredibly, powerful led to two things: pain, and a huge disaster on the magnitude of one savior of the wizard world, disappearing from a culture completely torn by war that was using this sad decrepit boy for there one beacon of hope.  
  
There were a lot of suicides the next day.  
  
oOoOo  
Harry Potter was being held under crucio. Ok maybe it wasn't that bad but it was sure as hell close. He also noticed that the ground was awful close, but that didn't matter because at that very second he was saves from cretin mutilation and possible death, by a set of very well functioning wards. Slowly he landed on soft snow, amongst the blaring of alarms.  
  
"DANGER! WILL ROBINSON DANGER!"  
  
And has he slipped in to an undeserved sleep, Harry couldn't help but mutter "damm humor"  
  
oOoOo  
Okeydokey so there you have it. The first chapter of my foray in to the world of actually righting my own story. Anyhoo please review. (as in reread the story) or send some feed back (that's the purple button) or go on your merry way- but be warned- I'll sic my non-murderous cannibals in you!!!! MAHAHAHA!  
Oh and I don't own any thing (I wish I were Barbie, that bitch has every thing). Is there any one else that thinks there should be a giant all encompassing disclaimer on the home page just so I don't have to type this shit?   
Also I need a beta reader with a good grasp of grammar and spelling, I'm dyslexic and prone to simple, annoying mistakes. There's a t-shirt that says: Dyslectics of the world untie! It took me for ever to figure out what it was joking about.


	2. Dead Things

Books » Harry Potter » Malfunction text size: () : (-)   
  
Author: Noclaf   
  
2. Dead Things   
  
R - English - Angst/Drama - Published: 05-28-04 - id:1882466   
  
oOoOo  
  
When Harry awoke in the infirmary, he couldn't help but roll his eyes at the predictability of it all. Just like always, seconds after he opened his eyes he was confronted by the bustling form of Madam Pomfrey. He half listened in sleepy content, has she muttered vague threats, and griped about the general condition of her patient.  
  
"Well." she huffed, "Your certainly in good enough shape to see the head master." she told him in her disapproving voice as if patients should never have to talk to the headmaster, or any one else for that matter. She scuttled over to the fire place in her office. Harry personally agreed with her as he settled back into the pillows, he was in no mood to deal with the moaning reprimands of Headmaster Flitwick, and his wheezing lecture of moral, as well as his analytical analysis of what there was to live for. Harry always felt MORE like killing himself if only to make the little geezer shut up.   
  
Causally Harry began to explore the amount of damage. No bones broken, good, he moved the blankets aside to check his stomach- no bruises, so there was no internal injuries. He brought his hand to his forehead, tracing his scar and then scrubbed his military hair cut, enjoying the fuzzy feeling. He ran a hand down his face feeling the deep scar on his cheek, and the almost invisible scars around his eyes. Thanks to them he no longer had glasses. For a while he hadn't even had sight.  
  
The tell tail click of boots echoed up the corridor in a stedy pace; however the long strides were definenty not Flitwicks.

Harry heaved himself in to a seated position, and reached for his wand. Except it wasn't there. Harry opened the draw on his dresser in a panic, and painfully twisted his arm to check under his pillow. No wand.  
  
"Looking for something?" a cheery voice interrupted.  
  
Harry froze. He knew that voice. That voice was dead. That voice had no reason- no RIGHT to there. He turned slowly and saw what he had been dreading. Two eyes studied him coldly- no more like curiously, with a bit of caution. Like the first time Ron had seen a niffler. The face was old but not so old as he remembered. There went as many lines.  
  
"Lemon drop?" Harry wisped, the world rested on that question, the a answer.  
  
"Oh! Would you like one?" the dead voice asked. Harry's face twitched, anger began to flow through him- how DARE they! How DARE they raise his hopes with this THING- this DUPLICITY! It was the security check Hermione had devised long ago, a verbal check for when they were unsure of some one. "Lemon drop" they would ask each other. "Sugar is strength." the other would answer, and then of course in Dumbledore's case, the obligatory sweet was presented. This thing, this foul hoax, this was not Dumbledore and even as the withered old hand stretched out its offering Harry threw him self out of the bed.  
  
"Who the hell are you!" Harry snarled as he rolled out of bed his hand coming out face up as if to stop the fake thing like a muggle policeman. The thing stopped in surprise- at having it's cover blown so soon Harry surmised. "I'm Albus Dumbledore." the thing said. A pulse of light shot from Harry's hand knocking It to the floor.  
  
"Dumbledore is dead" Harry said hoarsely "now I will ask you again- Who. Are. You."  
  
"STUPEFY!"   
  
Harry arched backward as the minor spell dug in to his back, searching for his pressure points and squeezing them to knock him unconscious. Desperately Harry searched for the spell, trying to halt it, to slow it down, to reflect it, ANYTHING! Another stunner slapped into his chest, and a third into his head a second later. Harry fell in to the darkness where his angry past rose up and began it's nightly feast.  
  
oOoOo  
  
When Harry awoke it was still bright. He had barley begun to get his bearings when he was assaulted by Madam Pomfrey's voice. "He's awake!" she trilled.   
  
"What is your name?" came Dumbledore's voice.  
  
"Harry James Potter"  
  
"How old are you Harry" came the same calm voice  
  
"Seventeen "  
  
"Where do you live?"  
  
"Headquarters"  
  
" The head quarters of what"  
  
"The Order"  
  
"Which one?"  
  
"……"  
  
"Harry. Which order?"  
  
"……"  
  
"It's a Fidelius charm Albus. Better move on before his mind breaks." came a new voice. Another dead voice. This one was cold and warm. Empty, and yet so full time. It was an alarm. Slowly Harry began to pull him self out of the empty place he was in, going to the voice, the one that mattered.  
  
"Where did you live before that Harry?" NO! they wanted to know about The Place and Them. Or worse Home, and its secrets, or maybe even the stupid pigs, maybe they wanted to torture him with his failure. Make him talk about all the things he had-  
  
"Harry?"  
  
"NO!" there was pain now and burning.  
  
"Albus?" the voice again  
  
"Do it!" something down his throat, cool and soothing, a vice lifted from his head, he relaxed- too much there was now an unconformable wetness and stench between his legs. Harry breathed in great gasps first quickly and then more slowly, until he was almost asleep. In the background there was the mummer of voices. Angry ones? It didn't matter because through it all there was the one voice that did matter. Harry wisped the name and then slipped again in to the darkness. This time there were no angry ghosts.  
  
oOoOo  
  
So wow another chapter! never thought it would happen- let alone just 6 hours later. I knew there was a reason to drink coffee.....I cant believe that I knocked him out three times already! Oh well. Don't worry it wont happen too often, I'll stop I swear! But there's at least one more hospital seen so expect a few more black outs and if were lucky Flashbacks! So any more? yes?no?over your dead body? Use the purple button thingy. I have no idea where the lemon drop thing came from….I need sugar, maybe some caffeine. See ya all later. Noclaf


	3. Rather Rude

Just In . Directory . Columns . Dictionary . Search Log In . Register Menu- Help- TOS- Ad Blocker- Credits- Privacy Books » Harry Potter » Malfunction text size: () : (-) Author: Noclaf 1. Malfunction2. Dead Things3. Rather Rude4. Welcome Home PG-13 - English - Angst/Mystery - Reviews: 7 - Published: 05-28-04 - Updated: 06-21-04 id:1882466   
  
It was a week later when Harry entered the office of the puppet master Dumbledore. In that week he had seen dead friends and foes, teachers and lovers, and nameless soldiers he remembered, all tramping through the hospital wing. If this was a trap it was depressingly elaborate, as well as useless. All classified knowledge that he carried, had become almost casual conversation in the nights of celebration after the final battle.  
  
Despite that hear he was in a place that should be filled with feathers, and the miniature appliances of Flitwick, but was instead in an office he had not seen for almost two years. Dumbledore's office was as always curiouser and curiouser. The silver trinkets he remembered destroying in his fifth year were twirling away on a table. The pensieve was locked in its cabinet, and for a moment Harry considered breaking the almost elementary wards on the door; however a trill from a phoenix interrupted him.  
  
"Fawkes." Harry whispered as the bird alighted on his shoulder. He stroked the bird, fondly; remembering the outrage the bird had created after choosing his new master after Dumbledore was murdered. Professor Snape was not the ideal master of such a magnificent bird in most people's eyes.  
  
"It seems Fawkes has taken a liking to you." came the voice of Dumbledore from behind him.  
  
"So it seems." replied Harry, and for a moment both men stood i slince admiring the immortal creature.  
  
Harry broke the silence first, "Why do you torment me? I have nothing left for you to take."  
  
"We torment you?" asked the living Dumbledore.  
  
"You show me the faces long dead or mutilated, you tease with what might have been, you keep me in a place of light that was long ago filled with despair and fear."  
  
"Tell me Harry, have you ever heard of theories of alternate worlds?" Slowly Harry turned and faced the headmaster. "Yes" Harry whispered.  
  
"Then you have some idea what I'm proposing?" Harry nodded, and turned back to Fawkes, stroking the bright plumage.  
  
"Harry?"  
  
"It will kill me wont it, this world. Everything hears is diffrent, the people, and even the places. Even the air. All of it, so wrong. It will all kill me in the end."  
  
Albus Dumbledore- for that's who he truly was- looked mournful. "Yes eventually it will kill you; in eight, maybe nine years. The longest recorded was ten years and four months."  
  
"I should leave you now, spare you all the trouble of knowing me and missing me. If I was smart  
  
I would go out these doors and through the gates, and keep going till I fell off the Cliffs of Dover."  
  
"And will you?" The voice of the headmaster was strained. Harry turned again, and settled into one of the chairs usually reserved for wayward students and there families. He smiled sadly as he looked in the grave blue eyes.  
  
"No I shall not. Someone once told me that 'To the well trained mind, death is only the next great adventure'. My mind is well trained in the arts of war and I fear that if I were to die today, I would go in to the void of death, and return only for more battles, more blood, more death. And in the end I would become like him."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Voldemort." Dumbledore flinched. Harry stared. "By all the gods..." he again saw this mirror of worlds, this other Dumbledore in a new light. This was not the pillar of strength Harry knew. This was a shadow of a general, content and well set now in his ways, unguarded agents the unexpected. It was even more disturbing than seeing the dead walk. At least the dead had the decency to stay the same.  
  
"I take the dark lord is alive in your world" asked Dumbledore.  
  
"Until recently, yes. If you don't mind me asking, what has happened here, that leaves the defeater of the dark lord Grindelwald and leader of the light, to flinch at the name of a power hungry half-blood?" Dumbledore sighed and looked even older than before. "The dark lord, was destroyed almost fifteen years ago, by the Longbottom family, in that time I fear I have picked up the nuances of the world about me." Harry had a sudden wild hope that he could be with his parents hear in this backward world but curshed it quickly. They were as dead to him as always, nomatter if they lived in this backward world or not.  
  
"Is there any chance of revival for him?" Harry asked to cover his emotions. Dumbledore gave him a funny look, has if asking, and "are you a neo-death eater- or just morbid." Harry elaborated for him. "In my world, he was only disarmed, an incorporeal spirit that made several attempts at renewal. He succeeded at the end of my fourth year hear."  
  
Dumbledore looked disturbed "There have been several attempts, but all have failed. All who tried paid with their lives."  
  
"The death eaters, they are still alive then?" again Dumbledore looked startled.  
  
"Yes, there are a few who escaped the ministry's inquisition. Why?" For a moment Harry considered telling this shadow of Dumbledore, but one look into the blue eyes told him all he didn't want to be true. Telling this Dumbledore would only bring forth the ministry, and awkward questions and incompitant fools. "I have to know when to watch my back" Harry answered simply, his tone shut down any questions Dumbledore might have.  
  
"Well Harry it seems that you will be staying with us for awhile, how shall we start you up? Do you wish to say simply that you have crossed from an alternative universe and deal with the Ministry paper work, or shall we set you up with an alias?"  
  
"Just tell them the truth Albus, I'm not up to dealing with a new name. The press i can handle, but my name is the last thing i have of my world"  
  
"Alright, I'll have the paper work delivered in the morning. Now am I correct in assuming this should be your sixth year at Hogwarts?" said Dumbledore with some important documents in front of him.  
  
Harry laughed a bitter laugh, "If the war had never happened I would have taken my newts two years ago, as it was, I'm retaking almost all my classes from sixth year and up. I guess my time didn't quite line up with your space."  
  
"How old are you then?"  
  
"Eighteen"  
  
"Yes well, at least you wont be pressured in to being pushed ahead. However we do have a few small matters to attend to, as rude as it is, I must address the issue of payment for the school and supplies. I was thinking you could get a student loan at Gringotts until you get back on your feet..." Dumbledore trailed off at the thoughtful expression on Harry's face.  
  
"How is your dark arts teacher this year?"  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
Harry smirked, "Your dark arts teacher, we always had difficulties finding them, I was wondering who you roped into it."  
  
Dumbledore smiled, "This year we are blessed with a returning teacher, Professor Deloris  
  
Umbridge."  
  
"UMBRIDGE!" yelled Harry in out rage, "That- that FRAUD! Lockhart- no even Trelawney would be a better teacher! Are you daft? That woman is poison! You'll-"  
  
"Harry!" cried Dumbledore, "Professor Umbridge is an upstanding member of the ministry. Although I admit her teaching methods could use a little sprucing up..."  
  
Harry laughed at the twinkle that was back in Dumbledore's eye, and sat up straighter in his chair. Fawkes who had been sitting on his shoulder preening took flight.  
  
"Well prehaps you could start a club...." harry thought of the DA he had started so long ago in fith year, as much as he would like to see the kids get some practical use out of defence, he knew that there was no way in hell he would restart it. That had been a diffrent boy in a whole other world.  
  
"Harry," Dumbledore continued, "There are still two matters to discuss, that is you have created a highly unusual situation, even for someone who arrived hear as you did."  
  
"Oh-no" moaned Harry; already he could feel the burden of the world resettling on his shoulders in a cruel grip.  
  
"Harry I must inform you of the fact that your counterpart is alive. In fact if you join the sixth year as you intend, you are very likely to end up in his classes, perhaps in the same dorm."  
  
"I understand." Harry said pensively, "tell me do the parents of my counter part, his parents, are they alive?"  
  
"Of course! Although you must understand Harry, no matter how much you miss your own parents, you cant go pestering them. They already have you with them! It would be terribly awkward if they had to take care of two of you. Not to mention the havoc the two of you pranksters are sure to make!"  
  
"I understand headmaster." Harry said. He frowned. The temptation to see his family alive, it was unbearable. But then he had already dealt with the pain for eighteen years. He could bear it longer. Another ten years of brooding never hurt anybody right? Aye, and death eaters just wanted to have tea with him under the London Bridge.  
  
"And of course there is the final issue- your introduction to the school and your sorting, or should I say resorting?" Harry groaned and slumped further into the chair. This would not be fun.  
  
oOoOo  
  
Well it seems that Harry has some clichés to deal with as well as a new and disturbing problem (I think). Wont this be fun! And before you ask Dumbledore knows nothing of Harry's past, he assumes Harry to be a carbon copy of his Harry. Just with buzz cut and two nasty scars on his face. We'll all understand better later. Oh.... we didn't talk about Harry's lover...thing this time. Oh well, I know who it is even if you don't. Hey don't worry! I'll tell you! Eventually. Ask questions! There's no such thing as a stupid one (unless it involves around Beorge Gush, damm Florida) Go use the purple button, bar, thingy! And tell me where you are happy, angry, confuzzled ECT... And let me know where I misspelled something because I just added a bunch of misspelled words to my dictionary…ops! And thanks to Guava-juice, the only one of you laze bouts to review. Grrrr.... May the Schwartz be with you! Noclaf. Submit ReviewReport Possible AbuseAdd Story to FavoritesAdd Author to FavoritesAdd Author to Author AlertAdd Story to C2 Archive 1. Malfunction2. Dead Things3. Rather Rude4. Welcome Home 


	4. Welcome Home

Just In . Directory . Columns . Dictionary . Search Log In . Register Menu- Help- TOS- Ad Blocker- Credits- Privacy Books » Harry Potter » Malfunction text size: () : (-) Author: Noclaf 1. Malfunction2. Dead Things3. Rather Rude4. Welcome Home PG-13 - English - Angst/Mystery - Reviews: 7 - Published: 05-28-04 - Updated: 06-21-04 id:1882466   
  
The sorting went has Harry had expected. Dumbledore gave a long rambling speech of how moving was a terrible ordeal, especially when thrown in to a place so similar to the one left behind. There was a short ramble on how every one should be has helpful to Harry as possible, and of course the dire threats of disturbing a pawn under the protection of the great and powerful Albus Dumbledore. Then there was the intro of the Defence Association over the "hem hem's" of Umbridge the Unbecoming. And all of this was followed by a long and boring explanation of why Harry must be sorted again.  
  
The sorting hat was brought out and set upon the spindly three legged stool, the seat looking so much smaller than the last time Harry had sat upon it- was it only nine years ago? But that didn't matter; time had little meaning in war. The only time that time mattered was when following orders. Until then, time slipped around and copied itself until the next battle was begun.  
  
A hat slid snug about Harry's ears, and the craning looks of the great hall were shut out by the ancient blackness.  
  
"Very difficult I see," whispered a voice in Harry's ear, bringing a strong sense of deja vu.  
  
"I am a Gryffindor" Harry retorted annoyed, they'd already been through this. He fixed the Gryffindor seal in his mind: the red, the gold, the lion. The hat laughed.  
  
"Very clever I see, very determined. But I will put you where I see fit." said the hat, "unlike my counter part, I have nothing to stop me." Harry frowned. He really didn't like the sound of this. The hat was cackling now. "Oh you suspect now! After all the years you spent moulding your self to the very thing you were least like! Gryffindor! Pah! Your as Slytherin as they come. You are meant for great things Mister Potter. And to do them you must enter the house you were born for and banished from!"  
  
"If I ask nicely will you send me to Hufflepuff?" Harry asked. The hat laughed some more.  
  
"Of course not! For you are most defiantly meant for-"  
  
"Slytherin!"  
  
The hat came off Harry's head and the light and noise of the Great Hall assaulted him. For a moment he was eleven again, a cowering first year. Then his eyes adjusted and he found the great hall filled with familiar faces, youthful and curious and above all for most-- dead. But that was no different form the teachers and headmaster directly behind him.  
  
Harry slid over to the one table that he had never, in all the years of Hogwarts and the war, had he even touched. To do so was more than a little shock when the table beneath his hand seemed to move. Well not quite move, so much as ripple and hiss.  
  
"Welcome home." it wisped. And Harry despite all the stares, the hostility, and the utter insanity of his life, relaxed. And for a moment he was Harry, simply Harry the Slytherin. Then the yelling began.  
  
The first to begin against Harry was Harry.  
  
Harry of the Slytherin table couldn't hear what he said exactly, but the gist was apparent. Apparently the Gryffindor was storming away to write his parents. He was flanked by Seamus, Dean, and Ron. All of who were shooting nasty glares and looking in general, outraged. The rest of the hall was reduced to yelling over each other, discussing this new development and glancing rapidly back and forth between the two Potters.  
  
Surprisingly, Dumbledore did nothing to hinder the shouts of out rage, and a few subtle hexes sent at him under the table. It was the fastest Harry had ever seen the school turn against him. But it was still nothing new. Ignoring all but the hexes, which he deflected into hapless Ravencalws, Harry dug into his dinner.  
  
Above him black eyes burned holes into him. But he would not turn. His life was dead and all the people he had loved with it. He would die in a few years anyway. Maybe he should kill himself before Dumbledore managed to spend any money on him….  
  
But he was Slytherin, and if there's one thing Slytherins are good for, it was survival. Well, that and destroying rivals but it was really the same thing to most of their twisted minds….  
  
The dorm was easy for Harry to find, due to certain adventures in his second year. Behind him trailed the more curious Slytherins, as well as his new year mates. Harry stopped at the blank stretch of wall where the Slytherin common room was housed, and turned to raise an eyebrow at the crowd following him. They stared. Harry stared. The paintings on the wall stared. Harry blinked and so did everyone else.  
  
"Knockturn" came the voice of one of the students. The wall slid open and everyone stepped inside. They all arranged them selves around the fireplace, Harry in the front looking at the familiar faces of enemies and a few distant friends. Ginny Weasley was surprisingly present, and Harry desperately wished he could have see the casket that Ron was sure to have blown when that had happened. The arrival of Professor Severus Snape saved them all from another staring contest.  
  
"Well, well, well, if it isn't our new celebrity. Welcome to Slytherin, Mister Potter." came Snape's voice and Harry wondered if the man had used the same words when his other self had arrived in the potions class, well minus the not quite frozen welcome. Turning to the rest of the room, Snape began a speech very much like Dumbledore's telling his little snakes to welcome there newest member to there ranks and not hold anything from his doppelganger against him. That made Harry uncomfortable. Was his other self a carbon copy of his father? The way the other Gryffindor boys had followed reminded Harry strongly of the Marauders. Were they all giant prats like his father? And who was there target? Looking at the Slytherins it want hard to guess. Malfoy looked mildly annoyed, with Crabbe and Goyle cracking there fists looking murderous. It would probably take a very long time for them to tell the difference between the two of him. Blaise Zabini was shooting him frightened looks until he realized he was doing it. Then he just drew his arms around himself and stared at the floor. Harry figured that Zabini was the 'Snivellus' of the Slytherins; taking most of the crap the Marauders must deal out. The other years, younger ones expressly were looking less than trusting.  
  
Oh the luck of a Potter, he hadn't been hear ten minuets and he alredy had plenty of foes.  
  
oOoOo So there you have it. A miracle. I kid you not because I though that I would never resolve certain issues with in the story. But then they're fixed now so enjoy. I'm not gong to update often because I am manic-depressant so I'll pretty much randomly update whenever I get into a "creative mood" and you'll probably then get a lot of chapters at once…. Whatever see ya all later Noclaf  
  
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	5. Diagon Alley

The next morning Harry woke from a dream that involved mirrors. Lots and lots of mirrors. He had been reflected in all of them, but rarely did he look anything like him self in them before him was a woman in a white dress who was reflected in none. "Oh dear" she said, "I think you are rather lost. Mother will not be pleased!" then she had run off through the corridors of the maze "Has any one seen an empty panel?" she called. And all the Harrys in the mirrors shrugged and turned away. And Harry was led by the trailing hems of her dress and the tendrils of her hair that seemed to shimmer between the colours.  
  
In the darkness of the Slytherin dorms Harry thought about the woman. She was mentioned often he knew, in the lore of druids and the like, back when wizards and humans had believed in gods. He wondered if maybe the gods really did exist and the life he lived was all that it was because he was lost in the corridor; But it mattered not. He was hear in a in a world where he apparently lived the life of Malfoy with all the pig headedness and cruelty.  
  
Harry pulled on the same robes that he had been wearing since he'd been released from the claws of poppy, and strode out of the dorm feeling entirely naked without even his glasses to hide behind. Luckily he wasn't as blind as people thought. His glasses were thick due to the Government Issue plastic lenses, and he always wore them because it was some thing that Dudley could never ever take away. It had not occurred to Harry that he had only ever received the one pair when he was seven and never again until Hogwarts, and by then they were a part of his identity. He told him self he kept them because they made him look like his father, but his Slytherin side insisted it was for people to underestimate him and keep him safe from basilisks (although the parseltongue would probably take care of that). In any case it was just wired to go about without them.  
  
Harry was also missing his wand, and daggers, and potion vials, and emergency portkey, and silk-mail cloak (made with chain mail so fine it was like silk and has hard as dragon scale). Well about the only thing he had with him was his wits and we all know how lost you are with out your wits about you.  
  
Harry stalked through the lower levels of the dungeons, to the main stairs and was half way up when he noticed it was still dark. The clock at the very top of the stairs announced it was four thirty. Normally this wasn't a problem, during the war years, everyone was up early. Afterward an amazing amount of people suffered from insomnia; however in this peaceful hell, Harry knew the only insomniacs were Snape and Dumbledore, nether of whom he wanted to run in to.  
With a sigh Harry retreated back to the Slytherin commons to stare at the fire until the first student stumbled half awake from their dorms.  
  
Unfortunately that student was Malfoy.  
  
"POTTER! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DO-"  
  
Harry was out the door before Malfoy could remember the fact that there was two of him.  
  
He hurried up the stairs now sparsely populated with cranky early risers and to the great hall where he stuffed down some porridge, and then made his way to the front hall. Apparently some one was to meet him there and take him to Diagon ally.  
  
The escort turned put to be filch. Wonderful. This place kept getting better and better.  
  
"Hurry up boy! If I don't get my supply of Portico's Potion Picker-Upper you'll be the one scraping the walls!"  
  
Upon arrival at the ally filch thrust a bag into his hand.

"Portkey twelve sharp from the back ally of the Cauldron." growled Filch, and Harry was let to his own devices for the next six hours. Gringotts as usual was the first stop. Armed with nothing but a letter that supposedly reached both Gringotts and the ministry earlier that morning, Harry had to bargain and plead and threaten the goblins into loan barley enough to cover the school supplies of a Malfoy.  
  
However Harry was not a Malfoy, and so rather than waste a million galleons on robes and sweets, Harry hit the one and only wizarding junk shop. He came out with a purse that was still mostly full, three sets of robes that weren't quite rags, a set of seventh year books complete with Hufflepuff gossip scratched in them from the year before, and a trunk with two compartments nether of which had a key.  
  
Harry then went straight for the apothecary, and arranged for the fresh supplies to be mailed to him the next morning. He stopped over at madam Malkin's and bought a utility belt, undergarments, and checked the price of the silk-mail witched turned out to be in the price range of the combined inheritance of Malfoy and himself (his other self that is.  
He stopped at a weapon shop on the edge of Knockturn ally to pick up daggers, and was kindly in formed that he was under age and would he please leave.  
  
In an equally nice voice Harry informed the shop keeper if he couldn't get is knives for gold, he could certainly pay for them by not cutting of the mans balls with his own blade.  
Harry left the building feeling much safer.  
  
The last stop was Ollivander's, the same faded wand lay on the pillow, the same layer of dust on every thing, the same creepy old man that crept up ever so silently to scare the shit out of Harry.  
"Mister Potter.... Twelve and three quarters, unicorn hair, rosewood...excellent for charms and pranks was it not?"  
  
"I'm afraid you have the wrong Harry potter. Holly, eleven inches, and a phoenix feather..."  
  
Ah" said Ollivander "your the sprite that had the prophet in a conundrum. From somewhere so close yet so far..." he was giving Harry the creepy stare and it really freaked Harry out.  
  
"My wand?"  
  
"Ah yes of course." the moonlike eyes seemed to follow Harry even has the man disappeared between the stacks. Moments latter they returned along with a thin box. Harry took the wand offered o him and gave it a wave. Red and gold sparks showered down apron the floor as they had last time.  
  
"Ah excellent!" cried Ollivander, that will be seven gallons if you please" Harry reached for his purse, but paused as he saw the feathers of an owl out of the corner of his eye. It would not due to have Ollivander rush off and contact the head master about Riddle's brother wand.  
  
"Mr. Ollivander, I'm afraid I have a little problem or two with this wand...."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"Hmm....yes, I'm afraid if the headmaster of Hogwarts was to find out about this wand, there might be...trouble"  
  
"Ah too stay silent I must ask you to do another task then" Ollivander leered "because by law I am to report every wizard in my shop to the ministry. And it would be a shame if I had to lie about your purchases."  
  
"Of course. Than perhaps you can help me with another problem" said Harry "it seems that this particular wand has a brother, and it's always such a burden when I dual with a certain Mr. Riddle. It seems that all we can manage is prior incantatem."  
  
Ollivander laughed, "To solve your problems me boy have the perfect solution" he leaned in close so that his mouth was nearly touching Harry's ear, "buy another wand." he whispered.  
Harry smiled and discreetly slipped his original wand in to his pocket. Ollivander winked and then whisked the box down the isles coming back with another stack.  
  
"Since we already have an idea of your wand type lets try this! Willow and unicorn? No no-rosewood and dragon tongue? No- ash and dementor skin no-"  
  
"Thank Merlin!" mumbled Harry has wand after wand was shoved in his hand, although these had a much wilder verity of cores than the ones he was given first year.  
  
"Hazel and basilisk scale-" the wand was almost snatched out of Harry's hand before he could feel the warmth of it pivoting out of the wand makers reach he brought down the wood in a mist of silver and green.  
  
"Oh my cried Ollivander "that was an excellent show! Twenty four gallons if you please!"  
  
"Any brothers I should watch for?" asked Harry fingering the new bit of wood.  
  
"No I'm afraid there will be no fun for you in that department, that scale was found on the Hogwarts grounds oh- twenty years ago in a back passage. Who knows how long its been there? It is the only opportunity I've ever had to work with such a core."  
  
Harry let out a breath he had not known he was holding. Brother wands were such a hassle. He remembered when Ron had broken his wand during the war, and purchased a new one- one that happened to be connected to Draco Malfoy. Malfoy had been so disgusted he had snapped his wand on spot and bought another. Ron would have done the same except that he had absolutely no money at that point that he could spare.  
  
Harry swept out of the shop more than happy to be away from the wizard. He made one last stop at Telsa's tannery for leather to make wand holders. He could have bought them, but sometimes, it was best to make things your self. Harry arrived at the all behind the cauldron with only seconds to spare and the frayed Hogwarts patch swept him away.  
  
oOoOo That only took three months to get around to doing. and only a few hours to do. yep you know the drill. oh and a few things are being edited out of earlyer chaps. like the DA, but it's so over done and it is so far from where were now going. so harry will now be getting his cash from other sources. like student loans, and a debt to hogwarts. stuff along thoughs lines. anyhoo see ya all on the flip side. and check out my C2- anyone want to be on my staff? just give me a holler. noclaf


End file.
